“I’ve seen many things, my friend. But you’re right. Nothing’s quite as wonderful as the things you see”
So as David Tennant’s Ten regenerates into Matt Smith’s Eleven, Doctor Who also changed showrunner/lead writer/executive producer/oddjob man as Steven Moffat took over the reins from Russell T Davies. The pressure was on both to deliver – the relatively unknown Smith had low expectations, Moffat had sky-high ones due to his much-garlanded writing – and I don’t think you can argue that they didn’t. Smith revealed an impossibly ancient soul to his youthful frame with a Doctor unafraid to be as angrily dark as hyper-actively quirky. And Moffat constructed a complex series, introducing the depths of new companion Amy Pond slowly, and building to a multi-stranded timey-wimey finale that makes the head hurt just to think about it.
Elsewhere, the overused Daleks returned in multicoloured format, the Weeping Angels were much more successfully reprised in a stonking double-header, the Silurians also came back, and Arthur Darvill’s Rory grew in stature to become an effective second companion as opposed to a third wheel. Oh, and Helen McCrory stole the show, but then you knew I’d say that didn’t you 😉 Continue reading “Countdown to new Who: Doctor Who Series 5”
“That’s how it is with Peter”
The Young Vic has released the latest instalment in their intermittent YV Shorts series, filmic responses to the shows they’re producing, often attracting some of the more luminary names in their Rolodex. This time, we have The Roof, a comedy in brief by Nigel Williams and directed by Natalie Abrahami. It is neatly conceived and wittily done, though it does feel very much more targeted at theatregoers than the others, full of self-referential in-jokes as it is.
Beginning in the offices of the Young Vic where Kobna Holdbrook-Smith’s admin bod passes on the message to David Lan (Artistic Director of the venue, should you not be sure) which gets a little bit lost in translation (with years of admin experience under my belt, this rang particularly true) and results in a mammoth misunderstanding of mixed identities at the very time a noted theatre director is showing up for a book signing, with a phalanx of fans eager for the chance to get close to their hero. Continue reading “Short Film Review #63 – The Roof”
“There’s no room for cynicism in the reviewing of art”
One might equally say there’s no room for cynicism in my reviewing of Mike Leigh’s work, such a fan of his oeuvre am I and the laidback, gruff charms of Mr Turner are no exception, confirming the iconic director in the full flush of his prime. Timothy Spall has already been deservedly rewarded for his wonderfully harrumphing performance of the last 10 years of the life of this most famous of painters and it is a compelling portrait, of a man established in his world as a bachelor, a master painter, and later a lover. Leigh’s episodic style fits perfectly into this biographical mode, dipping in and out of his life with the precision of one of Turner’s paintbrushes, colouring in a captivating collage of his later life.
Spall is excellent but around him, the women in his life provide some of the most hauntingly beautiful moments of the film. As Sarah Danby, the mistress and mother of the two daughters he would not recognise, Ruth Sheen is piercingly vivid, her barely contained fury resonating deeply. As Hannah Danby, her niece who was Turner’s long-suffering and long-serving housekeeper, Dorothy Atkinson is painfully brilliant as a woman subjugated and subdued by his wanton sexual advances, the psoriasis that afflicted her, and her deep love for the man. As “self-taught Scotswoman” and scientist Mary Somerville, Lesley Manville near steals the film in a simply beautiful self-contained vignette. Continue reading “Film Review: Mr Turner (2014)”
“How can one forget?”
I’ve often been guilty of saying ‘oh I could listen to her read the telephone book’ about any number of the actresses I love and if you’re a fan of the strange enticing melody of Kathryn Hunter’s voice and fancy listening to her reciting a load of numbers, then you (and me) are in luck. In The Valley of Astonishment she plays Sammy Costas, a woman with synaesthesia – a neurological condition that manifests in sensory confusion – and something of an eidetic memory which proves as much of a blessing as a curse as an attempt to exploit it in a variety show backfires.
And gathered around her are other stories from people with the same condition, snippets from other lives and the ways in which they have invariably learned to cope which are interwoven into the progression of Sammy’s narrative although in all honesty, I felt they added little. Peter Brook’s name inspires a hushed reverence in many but if someone were coming to him for the first time with this production, it is hard to imagine that they would be equally inspired for it is a rather dry treatment of what is an endlessly fascinating subject. Continue reading “Review: The Valley of Astonishment, Young Vic”